Falanghina, reconsidered

Falanghina is one of those grapes that came out of nowhere to an almost sudden stardom. This native of Campania, in southern Italy, has a floral-mineral profile that sits well with its mostly coastal environs around Naples, where it is very much a foil to seafood. (For more on it, and its Campanian pals, read our story from last year.)

I remember the delight of my first taste of Falanghina, of all places at the Charles Hotel in Cambridge, Mass., where it was a fragrant reprieve during a cold winter night of big food and big wine. It was too weighty to be easily dismissed like a Pinot Grigio, too curious to be filed next to most Soave.

But the same clean, crisp, stainless-steel winemaking that made Falanghina a star is also causing its Grigio-ification, by which I mean: What had been a curious country grape was taken to the big city, and if it didn’t lose its soul, all those fancy trappings might have stripped some of its character. It is now being made by some of the most notable wineries of southern Italy, and while their interpretations are faultless, they haven’t held my interest nearly so well in the past couple years.

So it was a revelation to encounter the 2006 La Sibilla Cruna Delago Campi Flegrei Falanghina (about $25-30), made by a tiny producer in the Campi Flegrei appellation, just outside Naples and imported by Oakland’s Oliver McCrum Wines. The soils there are unique even compared to neighboring sites, partly due to their sandy nature and their volcanic content, since the area itself is an old volcanic caldera.

The Di Meo family grows their old Falanghina grapes on the original rootstocks, a rarity allowed by the soils, and the Cruna Delago is their reserve. But rather than the wood aging that can only further strip Falanghina’s verve, the grapes get about 12 hours on their skins and then a natural yeast fermentation.

The whites of Campania aren’t particularly wines you’d tap for aging, but this one has enough direct mineral character that I’d be curious where it goes in a few years. Right now, it displays white almond and squeezed lemon, with intense mineral energy on the palate. There’s nervosity, precise length and impressively dense flavors. My notes say it seemed to have great phenolic refinement, which is a wonky way to say that just a bit of the tannic grip from the fruit was rather masterfully transferred into the wine. This is something rare in white wines, but a pleasure when encountered.

I don’t imagine the Cruna Delago alone will help Falanghina escape a Grigio-like fate if it follows in the line of higher yields, less attentive winemaking and easy profits. But just as there are extraordinary Pinot Grigio’s that will restore your faith in that variety, there is Falanghina that aims to be so much more than a simple life near the shore.